


From the Banks of the Nile

by Rulerofyouall



Category: Night at the Museum (Movies)
Genre: Abandonment, Ancient Egypt, Assault, Attempted Murder, British Museum, Claustrophobia, Fainting, Fear, Gen, Imprisonment, Murder, Museums, Neglect, Nightmares, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Character Death, Past Violence, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Torture, Rejection, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Sleep, The Tablet of Ahkmenrah
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2019-11-18 22:35:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18127367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rulerofyouall/pseuds/Rulerofyouall
Summary: Ahkmenrah came to life every night just like every other exhibit, yet he was so different from the others. He required sustenance, sleep. He was made of actual living tissue and died nightly. But he had also been abandoned and rejected time after time, starting with the departure and eventual death at the hands of his brother and including his neglect at the hands of those at Cambridge and the museum, so why did he think his new friends would be any different? Why did they all seem so eager to leave him in London?





	1. Confusion

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing! This fandom deserves to come back to life....

They hadn't even asked him if he wanted to stay or not. Not one of them did; they just seemed all too keen to drop him off with his parents and go on their merry way. He had barely if ever mentioned his parents around them, so why did they think he wanted to stay there permanently? Sure, he didn't mind having a quick visit with his mother and his father, but this was not where he wished to stay.

He supposed that he should have expected this. While none of the exhibits we're ever concerned with the fact that he died every single night, it did stun him that not one of them could spare a glance to him when he physically crumbled and died before their eyes. They were all focused on Dexter, cute and childlike but plastic nonetheless. While they were all stiffening into their normal artificial state, he felt his breathing slow and the stabbing pain that seared through his body as its functions were halted to a grinding stop.

"Rest, child."

He snapped back into reality by his mother, Shepseheret. She cupped his face and rubbed her thumb against his cheek slowly, and he allowed himself to melt into her touch. She was much more lenient than his father in regards to acting like a proper pharaoh all day and every day.

His mother removed his crown and set it down before moving to ruffle some of his curls. "Rest," she repeated.

Ahkmenrah nodded, looking away from the entrance to the exhibit. Outside, his friends (at least he thought they were friends) and his father were talking about Ra knows what.

"Would you like to use my sarcophagus to rest?"

He blinked furiously and straightened quickly, all of a sudden a pharaoh once more. Why would she offer for him to use that of all things? Those small, enclosed, and often locked things? Didn't she know what happened to him?

As it turned out, she didn't.

"No."

"Is something wrong, my son?"

Ahkmenrah bit his lip hard--an action she always chided him for. "No."

Shepseheret knew that he was lying instantly. "Tell me what is wrong. You weren't always so afraid of a measly sarcophagus." Her eyes were compassionate, but they stabbed him right through his chest.

"I just can't stand those things anymore." He insisted. "I will rest now, mother."

She pursed her lips but allowed him to move to a nearby bench instead. "Would you be unhappy with Merenkahre and I?"

That was exactly right.

"I will rest now, mother." He tried to put as much authority as he could muster into his voice, but it had no effect on her.

"You want to go back with your new friends." Her eyes softened.

Ahkmenrah stubbornly kept his eyes shut as she said this.

"I guess no one asked you what you wanted to do." She realized.

He tried his best to ignore her, well aware that he never truly had the power of a pharaoh. His father had been in charge, and then, his brother was regent temporarily until Ahkmenrah came of age. As soon as he did, Kahmunrah usurped him. Always, he had been under the rule of another, and it was no different here. He was never the one to make the decision.

"I'll speak to your Guardian." She promised and stood, temporarily resting her hand on his shoulder. "We'll make this right."

Ahkmenrah opened his eyes. "What?" Even now, they thought he couldn't speak for himself.

"What your father and I want for you in your afterlife is happiness and serenity. I'm not certain if that has actually come by you, but we will do our best now."

His mind flashed to all the nights he spent shrieking himself hoarse and scratching until his fingers were red and raw in that instant. He definitely had not experienced the tranquility she spoke of, but others must have had it worse, right? There must have been some reason that he wasn't privy to that explained why no one cared when he literally died right in front of them.

At that point, he couldn't bring himself to care that his mother was still treating him as she would a child and slipped off into a dreamless sleep. The last thing he knew was that his mother was going to speak with his father, the Guardian, and his other friends on his behalf.

By the time he woke up, Larry was helping the exhibits with their crates. His eyes brightened when he saw that his friend had awoken.

"Ahk!" He walked over to the pharaoh. "I hear that you're coming home with us."

He molded his face into that of a perfect ruler. His friends had rejected him and tried to abandon him in London with his parents.

"Yes, Guardian." He pointedly did not mention the other man's confused look at his diplomatic speaking.

"Your stuff is over there, but don't worry about getting into it until just before sunrise." Larry changed the topic of conversation. "So, you sleep? I've never seen you do it before; do you need it?"

"Yes, Guardian." He grit his teeth, trying to contain all of the rage pent up inside him.

He looked worried. "Why didn't you tell us, Ahk? You know you aren't a burden, right?"

His eyes flashed dangerously. "Why would I have told you? It should be obvious, should it not? I am not a piece if plastic that can keep going until they melt; I am a living, breathing human being. I have a pulse, whereas Sacajawea and Teddy do not. I grow hungry, and I grow weary. I bleed when cut. And without the magic of my tablet, I most certainly die, decay, and crumble into tiny pieces." He looked away. "Not like you would know that though."

Larry was stunned. "I'm sorry, Ahk. This is about tonight, right? I'm sorry, but it is just that I saw Dexter first and-"

"Your apologies are not needed, Guardian, but mine are. I should not have spoken so far out of turns. It brings shame to the way my parents raised me."

"You're allowed to have emotions, Ahk. Hell, you probably feel them stronger than other exhibits since you are truly alive." The night guard handed the pharaoh his crown from where the queen had left it. "You need to talk about something? You know, we are always here to listen."

Was he really? He, who abandoned the entire museum?

"No."

Larry nodded. "Maybe a little later then." He checked the time, jumping when he saw just how much time had passed. "Okay, Ahk, let's go home."


	2. In the Museum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They return

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing!

On awakening, Ahkmenrah panicked and thrust his hand forward to meet the lid of his sarcophagus. Was he yet again trapped within?

The answer, apparently, was no. The lid flew violently across the room.

"Ahk! You okay, bud?" Larry hadn't seen the pharoah do that in a long time.

"Apologies, Guardian." He flushed, knowing that he probably had looked like a fool.

The other man sighed. "It's okay, Ahk. Is anything bothering you? You haven't done that for a while."

"I'm fine." The pharaoh stood up. "May you leave and allow me to dress?"

"Oh, yeah, of course." The night guard awkwardly walked away. "I'll be with Teddy!" He called out last minute.

Ahkmenrah was finally all by himself. Why had he thrown the lid off of the sarcophagus? He hadn't been locked in it for years at this point, so why did fear grip his heart so? He glanced at the jackals in contemplation, wondering if he should refuse to see anyone that night. Would it help him to be by himself for once?

He had rarely gotten any privacy in his life. When he was alive, he was normally watched by tutors or servants as though they were hawks, and although he didn't see his parents as frequently as family saw one another today, they checked in on him more so than they did Kahmunrah. Once dead, he found that he could barely release himself from his confinements, and there were always the jackals and other godly caricatures watching him. Then, there was Cambridge, and now, he was here.

While he was in his own tomb, he had everything other deceased pharaohs had. He was wrapped in fine linens, he had a death mask, and he had many, many layers of sarcophagus. He couldn't lift them on his own; they weighed hundreds of pounds. He would eventually struggle to breathe every night until he finally succumbed to unconsciousness, only to be awoken the following night in the same situation. His greatest gift had become his greatest curse.

Mindlessly, he commanded his jackals to refuse entry to anyone who wanted to come in. They didn't care about him anyway. They didn't care that he actually died every night, that once animated he had the same needs of a normal human. He should have known that before it could come to that however; hadn't Teddy mocked him, refused to release him from his sarcophagus?

He sat on the floor behind his coffin, so no one passing would be able to see him. Sure, they would all know exactly where he was, but if they couldn't see him, he hoped they wouldn't attempt to reach out to him. No matter how hard they tried to include him, he knew that it was only out of pity. They thought they had to out of duty.

 He fingered his wrappings, not feeling motivated enough to actually remove them and change into more appropriate attire. It wasn't like anyone was going to see him that night anyway, so there was no point in changing into something else. He would only have to rewrap himself later, and he hated doing that.

Humming a tune that hadn't been heard since the fall of Ancient Egypt, he reached towards a very different display. While still extravagant, his collection of weapons was much more modest than that of his brother, Kahmunrah. He took out a khopesh, running his fingers down the blade. It was just as sharp as ever thanks to the tablet's interference, and the pharaoh wondered what he should do about the blood now dripping down his fingers. It wouldn't do to have fresh blood staining millennia old wrappings, would it? Or would it age as the sun rose to be just as old as he was? He was unsure.

He supposed that it couldn't hurt anything, so he laid the blade next to him and just stared at the blood dripping down his hand. It wasn't gushing out quickly, but it also certainly wasn't coming to a stop anytime soon.

"Ahk?" A voice called from behind him, probably from behind his active jackals as well. "You okay in there?"

It was Larry as he expected, but he was unsure of why the President was not with him. Had he not said that he would be with Teddy?

Ahkmenrah did not answer the night guard, instead chosing to remain as silent as he could. Maybe the other man would go away if he didn't get a response.

"I know you haven't come out yet." He continued on. "And I know that you don't want to see us right now."

He suppressed the urge to growl. If he knew he wanted to be by himself, why wasn't he leaving him to do so? Was Larry babysitting him? Did his parents ask him to?

"It is fine if you want some alone time, but please answer me."

He could hear the emotion dripping off his voice, but he still did not respond.

"Okay, I'll check on you later. Tell me if you need anything." The Guardian sounded defeated.

He waited until he heard his footsteps fade into the distance. Would Larry tell the others of this? It wasn't like they would care anyway, but he still felt the need to wonder.

His khopesh remained at his side, but he was bored of it by now. Staring up at his tablet, he slowly let sleep claim him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and suggestions are welcome and appreciated!


	3. Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ahkmenrah does not wish to see anyone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing!

Soon enough, it practically became a routine. Ahkmenrah would awake every night in a panicked state to Larry's face. He would ignore the night guard until he had to leave to attend to his other duties. He would order his jackals to not permit anyone into the exhibit, and he would sit behind his sarcophagus for the entire night. He never bothered to remove the linens carefully wrapped around his body no matter how much he hated them, no matter how much they impacted his breathing. And normally, his eyes would fall upon the blade that had been crafted for him centuries before.

Every night since the first, Larry would bring the others with him to try to encourage him to exit his exhibit. But Ahkmenrah couldn't do that; he couldn't let them win that easily. He couldn't be defeated like that again, forced to unconditionally surrender to his opponent, only to be struck down by their blade.

The pharaoh was certain that somewhere within the museum lay the khopesh that had been used to kill him. Kahmunrah used to taunt him constantly about how the blade which ended him would end up in his tomb to haunt him forever instead of being held in high honor in his brother's tomb. Luckily, no one had found out exactly which blade it was yet, so it was not on display. Ahkmenrah was fairly certain that it would be revealed if they ever decided to examine his remains however.

"Ahk?" It was Larry, exactly on schedule.

He scowled. Was he really nothing more to the Guardian but a point on a to-do list? He had once helped the night guard maintain order within the museum, but he had fallen so far in status that they were making sure he wasn't messing with the exhibits.

He didn't respond to the other man, choosing instead to play with a loose strand of linen.

"Are you sure you are okay in there, pharaoh?" That sounded a lot like Octavius, but if it was, his voice would have to have been amplified somehow.

"Why don't you come out? We're not mad at you." Sacajawea spoke up.

Ahkmenrah swallowed heavily. They were trying to guilt trip him, to lure him in with attractive promises. He couldn't fall for that trap.

"I'm worried about you, Ahk." It was Larry again; the three of them must have been the only ones to show up then.

He wished they would leave him in peace. He was in his exhibit, where it was safe. Nothing would trap him or hurt him or kill him here, so the pharaoh for once had the control his father had promised him the date he ascended to the throne.

"You haven't changed out of your wrappings in days." The Native American woman observed, and if the sudden shocked gasp was a sign, then, Larry hadn't noticed that his clothes remained untouched.

Why did they bother pretending to care about him? The more he resisted, the quicker they would abandon him and return to their normal lives. They would leave him in peace to mind his own thoughts.

"If you need anything, you know where to find us." The Guardian of Brooklyn reminded him painfully.

The pharaoh wanted to tear his hair out. They said the same thing every night expecting a different response. When would they realize that they would both be better off if they went their separate ways? They wouldn't have to deal with a temperamental, destructive, and selfish ruler, and he wouldn't be let down again. If no one was close to him, then, it was impossible for him to see them choosing animals over him.

He breathed a sigh of relief as he heard their footsteps slowly fade off into the distance. Larry would be back closer to morning as usual, but for now, he had peace. He brought up the blade he had taken to carrying around with him. He wasn't sure why, but he felt more comfortable with it than without it. Now, he could have release from the pain inside whenever he wanted.

He was particularly good at hiding the blood from the night guard. In the craziness of the before-dawn museum, Larry had a lot of responsibilities, so he wouldn't notice if the pharoah's bandages were slightly out of alignment. He had taken to partially unwinding the arms of the linens and ripping the khopesh across them, relishing as the agony filled his mind and cleared it of all other worries and thoughts.

He knew that he would not die from this, and even if he did, it wouldn't matter. His blood would clot too quickly, and while he knew that water would delay this, he wasn't motivated enough to go to the showers. It would be a wasted effort anyway. The cursed tablet would just force him back up the following night.

It had healed all of the wounds he had inflicted upon himself thus far, but he still had violent scars up and down his arms. Just another thing to keep from the others. He wasn't sure why the tablet didn't fix his skin completely, but he decided that anything he had control over was a positive.

Ahkmenrah yawned slightly after several hours, feeling worn and sluggish from his activities, but he didn't bother moving. By morning, all of the evidence would be gone.

Suddenly, he heard footsteps coming, and he hid behind the sarcophagus. Could they see anything?

"Great Scot, lad! What have you done to yourself?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and suggestions are welcome and appreciated!


	4. Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Teddy arrives

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing!

Ahkmenrah froze. It was Teddy; how did he know something was amiss? What clues could he have given off? He looked at the ground in confusion. Suddenly, it dawned on him. He was losing a lot of blood incredibly quickly. The puddle had expanded until it was visible from beyond the sarcophagus, likely tipping off the president.

He felt woozy and grasped the side of his sarcophagus to stop himself from passing out. How deep had he cut himself? He hadn't registered it while he was doing it, too focused on his pain and sorrow.

Horror gripped him. He didn't care really if he died again, but how would Larry explain this? Would he get fired?

Teddy spoke up again. "Ahkmenrah? Can you hear me, son?" He was clearly panicked and worried.

The pharaoh didn't respond to his good friend. What was he supposed to say? His father would be so ashamed of how much weakness he had been showing the last few days. He couldn't show more of that weakness, that emotion, even if it was towards someone he trusted.

He heard the president argue with his jackals. "Let me through! Do you not see that your pharaoh is poorly?"

Ahkmenrah held his breath. Would they disobey him out of concern? He hoped not. All he really wanted to do was fall asleep.

He slipped lower onto the ground with a dull thud.

There was a pause before he heard anything else, before he heard Teddy shout. "Lawrence! Sacajawea! Attila! Jedidiah! Octavius!" He was yelling out all of their closest friend's names, hoping that one of was near.

Then, he heard nothing else.

Larry had been making his rounds when he had heard the president's shouts. Knowing that whatever was causing such panic must be serious, he quickly assembled everyone he had called for before sprinting towards the source of the noise, Octavius and Jed in his pocket, looking equally concerned.

He was outside of the Ancient Egyptian exhibit. Panic gripped him by the throat.

"What's wrong?" Sacajawea walked up and cupped his worried face with her hand.

Teddy let out a shuddering breath and gripped her hand like a lifeline. "We....we need to get in there, but the jackals......The pharoah has done something awful." There were tears in his eyes.

"I was just about to check on him. What happened?" Larry strained to look over Teddy's shoulder, but the president pushed him back.

Jed looked up in confusion. "Why are you stopping him?"

"I just need to make sure you're prepared before you see. I'm....I'm concerned."

Sacajawea looked away from her lover's face and beyond his shoulder. Her body froze like ice. "No." She gasped. "He didn't...did he?"

"That's what I think happened. The jackals...." He trailed off again.

"What is happening up there?" Octavius projected his voice to be heard.

The Shoshone woman pushed her lover aside and flat out sprinted towards the sarcophagus. "Ahkmenrah! Can you hear me? Ahk!"

The president turned and threw an arm out to her. "Dearest, watch for the jackals!"

Two spears impaled the ground in front of Sacajawea. She halted and backtracked a bit. "We need to get in there. Immediately."

"Wait a second, can someone bring me up to speed?" Larry still craned his neck to try to see to no avail.

"Do you know how Ahkmenrah has been camping out behind his sarcophagus lately, Lawrence?"

The night guard nodded his head. "Yeah, nothing I do seems to be able to get him out of there."

"There's a puddle of blood."

"What? How did it get there?" Larry bit his lip anxiously, pushing the president aside to join Sacajawea in front of the jackals.

Jed spoke up. "Gigantor, I think he means that Ahk did it to himself..."

"No, he wouldn't." Larry furrowed his brow. "Would he?"

Octavius gripped his helmet. "His behavior has been...quite worrying as of late."

Sacajawea's eyes were wet with tears. "We need to get in there. The puddle is getting bigger. I would have hoped it would have started to clot by now, but whatever it is must be deep."

Larry turned to the jackals. "Look, I know you are trying to protect him right now, but he could be dying. We need to go help him!"

The night guard's entire mind was on the pharaoh. No matter how much he wished it was just a freak accident, he could not deny that Ahkmenrah, someone he had begun to think of as a son, likely did this to himself. But why? Larry wished that they had been better at communicating with him, at being there for him. How could he leave the Egyptian alone every night? Teddy could have shouldered his duties. He regretted ever suggesting that the pharaoh stay with his parents in Britain. That must have damaged the trust he had worked so hard to establish with Ahkmenrah.

The jackals seemed to look into each other's eyes in questioning as though they were wondering if it would be worth disobeying their ruler. They came to their decision rapidly and removed their spears from the ground. The group was free to go.

Attila had been silent the entire time, mostly due to a language barrier. He had known many men who had done similar things, driven by the pressure of being a part of the Hun army. Concern for his friend wrinkled his face and furrowed his brow.

Sacajawea was the first to find the pharaoh, pale and passed out. She gestured quickly for her lover to come closer and whispered something in his ear.

"Lawrence, I must go and retrieve the first aid kit." The president had been so caught up in getting to the pharaoh that he hadn't thought of what he was going to need once he got there.

Larry nodded quickly and moved out of his way. "What do you need me to do?"

"Put pressure on the wound." Sacajawea spoke from where she was checking his pulse. "His pulse is weak and sluggish." She frowned.

Octavius frowned from the night guard's pocket. "How do we fix this? It is not like we can take him to a hospital. He would turn to dust before they released him."

"The tablet should heal him during the day, but I still want to get this under control." She thumbed the jagged, violent scars marring the Egyptian's wrists. They were of varying ages, some old, some fresh.

Larry held the wound tightly. "How did I not notice this?" He sounded lost. "I see him every morning."

"His arms would have been wrapped." Sacajawea soothed. "There was no way you could have known he was doing this."

"I knew about his worrying behavior. I should have tried harder to help him."

"Worrying about what you should have done in the past will not help the present." She advised carefully.

Larry nodded. "You're right, but still..." He trailed off. His cheeks were wet with hot tears.

Teddy then returned with the first aid kit, a white box with a red plus sign on it.

"I am going to need to stitch this together." Sacajawea looked through the box. Many of its contents were too modern to be familiar to her, but she would figure it out.

Attila spoke up suddenly. He had training in stitching wounds on the battle field.

"Attila, you do this arm." She gestured toward it so he understood. "And I'll do this one."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggestions and comments are welcome and appreciated!


	5. In and Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inside and outside his subconscious

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing!

He had lived a good, blessed life as a descendent of the gods. There were so many people in the world, both the past and the present, who had it much, much worse than he ever did, so how dare he make such a commotion over everything?

He was wasting everyone's time. Every night, his friends would come over and beg him to come out. How dare he force them to plead with him in a way that he remembered his brother using? But at the same time, he knew that he could not give up, could not give in to them. They didn't really care. They were just pretending, and soon, they would stop trying to communicate with him. He would be all by himself for the first time in his life and afterlife, and he would be able to make his own rules. There would be no older brother to keep up with, no demanding professors from Cambridge to impress. He would be able to use his time the way he wanted to.

And this was what he wanted. The sharp, cold release he felt upon swiping the khopesh across his arms caused all of his pains to temporarily ebb away. He always knew that they would eventually return, but then, he could repeat the entire process. No one would care; they wouldn't care at all.

His brother would have called him weak a hundred times over by this point. He was too much of a coward to face his own emotions; he was unable to be strong in the face of conflict and distress. But this was something he could control. He had always lived in a very restricting environment. The pharaoh was never trusted by his parents, his tutors, the jackals, or the professors to not mess up catastrophically. Being away from others would mitigate any of the nasty effects he brought along with him.

His eyelids felt heavy. When had he gone to sleep? Faint voices were talking to each other. They were loud, too loud to be behind his jackals. Had they somehow made it past them? They were supposed to listen to him and nobody else. He was in control.

Ahkmenrah laid as still as possible and kept his eyes closed, trying to figure out what exactly had happened and where he was now. The voices were clear and distinct, and he could identify the speakers.

"The tablet should heal him, right?" This was Larry.

Ahkmenrah withheld a wince. So he was keeping the night guard from doing his job again. He didn't help them anymore; he was the problem this time.

Sacajawea spoke in response. "It should, yes. By the looks of these scars, he has been doing this for a long time, so the tablet must have healed them during the day."

They knew. Panic gripped his throat. How had they found out? Had he been careless? Had his jackals betrayed him?

There was a moment of silence.

"We're going to need to talk to him about this ASAP." Larry voiced. "He can't keep doing this to himself."

Teddy's clothes rustled as he changed position. "He hasn't been the most cooperative in that manner. Poor lad hasn't been speaking to anyone as of late."

"We could try to coax him into a conversation." Sacajawea answered. "I for one don't want to find out what happens if one of us dies during the night."

"And we all hope that it will never come to that."

He was seized by bitterness and ignored the stinging coming from his arms as his adrenaline died down. They were going to try to trick him into talking to them. He may have lost this battle, but there was no way he would allow himself to lose the war.

Larry spoke up again. "It would be safest if we move all the weapons out of the Ancient Egyptian exhibit for the time being. He hasn't been leaving it much, and there is no way I'll be able to convince McPhee into moving all of the weapons in the entire museum."

"You could suggest that they should be looked over by professionals." Teddy suggested. "Egyptologists, I mean."

Ahkmenrah felt fury bubble within him. How dare they take what was his? Those weapons had been in his possession for millennia, and there was nothing wrong with them at all. They didn't need to be looked over by researchers. The others were making decisions without him yet again.

"How bad was it?" He felt Jedidiah touch his finger gently.

Sacajawea replied to him. "He should be dead. The khopesh cut incredibly deep within him; he would have bled out before it clotted. We're lucky Teddy found him when he did."

"You think he's suicidal?"

"It's a possibility, but I don't know what is going on inside his head. I've never been a mind healer before." The Shoshone woman paused.

He would have died? He couldn't bring himself to care. His tablet has brought him back from many things. He had no control over whether or not he would come back to life the next night.

"I should probably get the janitors to clean up the blood." Larry swallowed heavily.

He really wasn't good for anything. He caused more problems than he was worth. And that was a fact.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggestions and comments are welcome and appreciated!


	6. I'm Sorry, Guardian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ahkmenrah speaks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing!

"Hey, Ahk." Larry's face greeted him from his sarcophagus. The lid was already open for him.

That was odd. He could have sworn that he had been listening to a conversation amongst Larry and the other exhibits; could he be mistaken? Or did he just pass out once more and burden them again? Someone would have had to carry him back to his exhibit. He hoped it was Attila. The two men understood each other on a higher level than usual.

"We had a bit of a scare last night. Do you remember anything?" His voice remained gentle as if he was pouring all of his dad powers into it.

Ahkmenrah didn't want to talk to him. Why couldn't it just go back to the way it was before? He had finally been in control, but his jackals had betrayed him. And now, Larry was not leaving. He truly had a babysitter.

"Ahk?" The night guard looked concerned, trying to get his attention.

"I'm sorry, Guardian." The pharaoh looked at his hands in his lap. He desperately desired to get out of the sarcophagus, but where else would he go? Back on the floor?

The other man swallowed hard. "Is it because we thought you would like to go live with your parents?"

When it was phrased like that, it did sound rather silly. The others had thought he would like to be with his parents; they weren't trying to be antagonistic. But that didn't mean that the betrayal hadn't hurt. It still burned in his heart.

"Was it before that? Because of what happened on the rooftop?" Larry paused. "I just...I need you to know that what you're doing isn't healthy."

"I know." The fire returned. "I know very well, Guardian, that I am not strong. I was raised to be a leader, and I can't even take control of myself. I am not strong like Kahmunrah or my father were. Please, just leave me alone."

Larry pinched the bridge of his nose. "I can't."

"Why not? Don't you have responsibilities?" He couldn't help the sneer that appear on his face. Why was he showing so much fury? Why couldn't he just be a normal ruler?

"Teddy is taking care of it. Right now, my responsibility is you."

That threw him. "I don't need to be watched constantly, Guardian. I am no child. I cannot be reduced down to an issue. I used to help you; can't you see that? But I can't anymore! I just can't."

"You're not the issue. The issue is what is going on to make you think that what you are doing is the only thing left in your control." The night guard sat down on the floor. "Why don't you get out of your sarcophagus? I know you don't like it in there."

Guilt washed over him. He had yelled at the Guardian of Brooklyn, and yet, he was still being nice to him? It could only be out of fear. That was it, wasn't it? He was becoming just like his brother, just like Kahmunrah. Wordlessly, he rose from the elaborate sarcophagus and sank down to the floor.

"I used to think that was a good idea too, the cutting." Larry gestured to his bandaged wrists. Sacajawea and Attila had done a good job, but they didn't want to risk taking them off during the day.

Had the night guard felt like he did before? Had he sat on the ground and ripped into his skin because there was nothing else he could do? But how? He had a purpose, family who loved him, friends who supported him.

The night guard picked at his shirt sleeve. "I was going in between jobs a lot." He went on without waiting for a response. "Couldn't keep one to save my life, and I didn't have a stable family structure. I couldn't see my son every day, you know? So, yeah, I got depressed too. I never did anything like what you just did last night, but it was still a scary time for me. Sometimes, it's still scary." He gave a self-deprecating laugh. "But it got better over time. I got this job, and I met all you guys. I wouldn't give you up for the world."

"But you did." Ahkmenrah interrupted, but he felt bad as soon as he did. It was off-putting, to say the least, what Larry was telling him. How could a man so strong be so weak like he was?

He sighed. "What I'm trying to say is that it gets better. You're not weak for having feelings. Hell, I'd be mad if you guys tried to give me back to my parents, so I don't know what else we expected from you."

"Pharaohs do not show weakness. That is how you die." The Egyptian knew this all too well. He thought about his brother, Kahmunrah, attacking him in the middle of the night. If he had been stronger, he could have fought him off, but he didn't because he was weak.

"No one is expecting that of you anymore." The night guard reasoned. "You don't have to appear emotionless for anyone.

Ahkmenrah chewed on his lip for a second but stopped when he remembered all the times he was chastised for doing so. "Attila said something similar."

"Yeah, we can't both be wrong, can we? Just think about it, please. You don't have to do this. Not anymore." Larry gripped his now healed but still scarred arms. "We're here."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggestions and comments are welcome and appreciated!


	7. Sacajawea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sacajawea listens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing!

They didn't listen to him anymore, the jackals. They didn't obey him at all even when he gave them direct orders. Ahkmenrah had tried to lock down his exhibit again the following night, but the two jackals remained disobedient.

Larry had stayed with him throughout the night and even into the early hours of the morning after he died again. The pharaoh had grown used to isolation, so it was a challenge to adapt to the presence of another once more. As he had assumed, the night guard and other exhibits had kept their promise of removing all of the weapons in his room, and Larry had told him that all of his personal weaponry was being studied by Egyptologists at New York University, or NYU.

Today, however, Larry had pressing matters he had to attend to, but it seemed that they all thought he needed a babysitter. When would they fully realize that he was millennia older than them? He didn't need anyone monitoring him to make sure he didn't make a nuisance of himself. It was embarrassing, really. After his life in Egypt and afterlife at Cambridge, he had hoped that his independence would never be threatened again, but he had just become another burden on the museum.

Tonight, Sacajawea was his babysitter. Guilt bit at him; she probably had other things she wanted to be doing, like hanging around the former president Roosevelt. But instead, she was going to sit here all night, most likely in complete silence because he couldn't be trusted not to make a mess of everything again. They had taken all of his weapons already, for Ra's sake, what else could he do?

He knew deep inside of himself that he would have found a way if he was left alone. 

But did he really deserve anything else? Egyptian pharaohs were notorious for being cruel to their people, so why did that make him any different? He must deserve this; this must be his punishment in the afterlife.

The Shoshone woman sat on the floor next to him. "How long has this been going on?" She asked lowly.

Ahkmenrah looked away and shrugged. "Does it matter?"

"Yeah. Some of those scars looked way to old for this to have started around what happened in London."

"So?"

Sacajawea sighed. "I just need to know what triggered all of this."

Truth be told, he had a lot of scars on his body. A lot of them were from wounds in battle or in training, but the pharaoh had been notorious for not being able to handle his emotions. Kahmunrah had called him weak for that, and to an extent, so had his father. When the stress of his life became too much, he had always known that he could fall back on his one coping skill, no matter how difficult the results could be to achieve. When he was locked inside his coffin, he would scrape his fingers against the lid until they were raw and bloody, and of course, he would shout himself hoarse.

It was different in his tomb. He was mostly by himself there, but he could never wander freely. The vast amount of sarcophagus lying on top of him was impossibly heavy, not to mention airtight. Therefore, every night spent in his tomb was a struggle to breathe. He would suffocate nearly every night.

"It couldn't have been easy being the ruler of Egypt." Sacajawea did her best to engage the other exhibit, but it seemed as though all her attempts were falling flat.

Ahkmenrah shrugged.

"It's hard enough standing up for what's right alone, so doing so for an entire country must have been....daunting."

"I was never alone then. Kahmunrah ruled as regent for me."

The Native American woman nodded her head in understanding. "That must have been very trying. No offense, but your brother is one of the cruelest beings I have ever met."

He laughed a little, and the other woman welcomed the sound. He had not done so in what felt like centuries.

"I never lived to rule on my own accord. Kahmunrah and the advisors used me as a puppet to destroy the nation. It was chaotic."

Sacajawea agreed. "Teddy said that those days were some of the bloodiest Egypt had ever seen."

The pharaoh nodded. "Yes, my brother did have a taste for violence. It is no wonder why he wanted to keep me locked in a sarcophagus. He must have thought that I was responsible."

"We still should have given you a chance. There are a lot of exhibits here with dark pasts, and they got treated fairly."

"You were locked up too." He pointed out.

"Yes, that is true, but that was the fault of the night guards at the time." She was glad to hear him speak.

Ahkmenrah hummed a bit. "Do you think they'll find anything?"

"Who?"

"The Egyptologists."

She glanced at his empty weapons case for a second. "I don't know. Is there something to find?"

"I don't know. I just don't want them to decide they want to examine me too." The pharaoh shivered. He was comfortable being a historical enigma.

"I see." Sacajawea sighed. "If they do decide to do that, you won't even notice, right? You'd just wake up the next night."

Ahkmenrah shrugged and went back to fingering his wrappings. He was done talking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggestions and comments are welcome and appreciated!


	8. Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ahkmenrah remembers the past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing!

His earliest memory was of a lesson in mathematics with his brother Kahmunrah. The tutor was a decently educated scholar, one of his mother's favorites. He was not certain why he and his brother were in the same class; since he was seven years younger than Kahmunrah, he was leagues behind him. Pharaohs didn't necessarily need to be well-versed in mathematics however since there were advisors to help them, but no one had expected Ahkmenrah to ever become pharaoh. The duty should have fallen to the oldest sibling, Kahmunrah.

His older brother was frighteningly cruel to servants and other citizens. When he would go out into the public, he would force people to drop their precious water that they were carrying in buckets. Their parents had never approved of such behavior, but Kahmunrah never cared. He was untouchable.

"You'll see, Ahk. When I'm ruler, Egypt will change." He would say. Under his rule, it certainly did evolve into something different, but it was not good.

One day several years later, Kahmunrah caught Ahkmenrah playing Senet with a serving girl. They were both barely ten years old, but that did not stop Kahmunrah's outrage. He wanted to control who his brother could talk to and stop him from meeting with anyone else.

"Don't you see, brother? You cannot be associated with the likes of her! She is beneath you. It is your job to help me rule, and I cannot have you distracted by peasant girls!" He had spoken as if Ahkmenrah had been attracted to her, but that was not the case.

By the time he had reached his teenage years, Kahmunrah had been sent away to fight a war against Nubia. Ahkmenrah had tried not to feel hurt, but he still loved him like a brother would. Why had he not gone with him? Was he too weak? He had taken the same lessons in fighting that Kahmunrah had.

"It was a bloodbath." Kahmunrah's eyes had glinted as he reported back to their father. "The Nubians never stood a chance. I ordered my men to kill them all: men, women, and children. They will not bother us again."

Shepseheret had taken Ahkmenrah and Merenkahre aside soon after. Kahmunrah had reached the age of an adult, but he still held the same violent thoughts and actions that he did when he was a child.

"I worry what would become of Egypt if he were to be pharaoh." His mother had admitted. "What would become of the citizens?"

Merenkahre had agreed with her. Neither of them had really engaged with Ahkmenrah, so he had gone back to his school work after a few minutes. What did they mean when they said that Kahmunrah shouldn't be pharaoh? Who would follow his father?

His father had slammed his hand down on his parchment soon after. "If you are to be pharaoh, son, it would do you well to pay attention. You cannot be weak. You cannot be emotional. You must be as strong as the gods."

Him? Pharaoh? What did they mean? He was never meant to rule; he was meant to help his brother do so.

His parents had died soon after. There had been an elaborate funeral, and they were both buried in the Valley of the Kings. Ahkmenrah gained the title of pharaoh soon after, much to his brother's fury. He supposed be could understand that. His brother had been promised the throne for years, and all of the sudden, it was pulled out from under him.

His advisors were not good people. They considered Ahkmenrah, then thirteen, to be too young to rule, so they made Kahmunrah, who had bribed them with lots of gold and weaponry, the regent. Thus started some of Egypt's darkest days. A curfew was placed over the capital, and anyone in violation were imprisoned. His brother committed atrocity after atrocity against the Jewish population, and he was powerless to stop it.

That was the first time his eyes fell on his khopesh. If he were to bleed, would his anger and sorrow leak out of him too? He certainly thought so. He always felt so good after he finished, but his servants began to notice the red spots on his clothing. They informed his advisors, who informed Kahmunrah.

His brother had taken it as another sign that Ahkmenrah was not fit to rule. He laughed at him, baited him, and encouraged him. He provided him with blades and forced him to be present for everything: executions, massacres, and battles. Egypt was never at peace.

He supposed that he could understand why Teddy was hesitant to trust him. He was a historical mystery, and all that they really knew was the brutal deaths and battles.

Upon his seventeenth birthday, he was finally deemed to be old enough to rule on his own accord, but that didn't stop his advisors from pulling at his strings as though he were a puppet. Kahmunrah wasn't happy about it either. He felt as though he was entitled to the throne of Egypt. Because of this, he didn't last until his eighteenth birthday.

His brother had drugged him one night, forcing him to retire to bed earlier than he normally would. Ahkmenrah was not very knowledgeable on poisons, so he didn't know what the substance was. It seemed to do the trick, however. His brother entered his bedroom soon after, carrying a khopesh similar to the one he would use to cope with the reality of his country. 

Then, he cut. He started with the arms, where Ahkmenrah would typically resort to hurting, but as he struggled against the drug, Kahmunrah grew impatient. He slashed the khopesh against his neck, leaving him violently bleeding out. His clothes were red. His sheets were red. Everything was red. The last face he ever saw was his brother's. It had probably looked like a suicide too, but Ahkmenrah did not know what they thought happened to him.

Suddenly, Ahkmenrah could see. He had been sleeping, dreaming in one of the museum's offices. A bolt of fury flashed through him. Who had moved him from his exhibit?

As expected, Larry was sitting nearby on a computer, probably struggling to get some work done in the chaotic museum. He didn't seem to notice that the pharaoh had awoken yet.

Ahkmenrah hated dreaming. He could never think of anything good to dream about, and all of it turned out to be about either Kahmunrah, Cambridge, or his damn sarcophagus. He rubbed his neck self-consciously, running his fingers along the thin scar his death had left him.

"Hey, Ahk." It seemed as thought the night guard had finally realized that he had awoken. "How are you doing?"

He shrugged, knowing that his father would chastise him. Pharaohs were supposed to be decisive, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

"Sleep well?"

He shrugged again.

"I brought you some modern clothes in case you wanted to change into them. They are probably a lot more comfortable than your wrappings." He offered.

"Thank you, Guardian." It was like he wasn't speaking for himself. His mouth was moving, but he was not controlling anything.

"You're welcome, Ahk."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggestions and comments are welcome and appreciated!

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are appreciated! I got permission from my good friend, RatchetFangirls, to use some of their plotbunnies, so I eventually will use the script they made but never posted for a Mysteries at the Museums chappie.
> 
> If I have any facts wrong, plz tell me!


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